Saturday, February 11, 2012

My Problems with Alcohol: Revolving Door

 With my stepmother gone, it was just me and my father.  But as time went on, my home became a revolving door of women, passing through.  My father prided himself in being a womanizer. I believed that he had lost the ability to love another woman - at least in the only way he knew how.  I began seeing things in my father that made me wonder if these were the reasons why my stepmother left.  I suppose I never really paid too much attention when my stepmother was around.  I was too distracted with school and my problems fitting in that I just assumed things were great between my parents.  Now that my stepmother was gone, I was forced to be the woman of the house, so things became more apparent to me.

My respect for my dad began depreciating at a fast pace.  I was not able to look at this man and acknowledge him as my father.  With the shifting in our relationship, and with everything that has happened thus far, a rebellious spirit was born.  I saw no real good in doing the right things and I honestly didn't believe anyone cared.  Grant it, by the stereotypical rebellious type, some would still consider me to be a good kid.  I didn't drink, do drugs, have sex, grades began declining but they were pretty decent.  The worst part about me was that I had a bad attitude.


My father drank a lot of alcohol.  There were times when I would witness him stumbling around the house making his way straight towards the recliner to pass out.  It pained me to see him this way.  I remember a time being curious about his alcohol and finding myself at the cabinet filled with different kinds of liquor, looking through the bottles.  I recall asking my dad about this particular bottle that had a worm on the bottom and him coaxing me to try some.  "No.  I don't want any of that."  "Go ahead, try it"  I wasn't interested in it; just wondered what the worm was all about.  I think, perhaps, I witnessed what alcohol did to my mother and father that the thought of drinking it scared me, although, I was still very curious about it.

I was a gutsy teenager.  I managed to convince a friend over 21 to give me 2 forms of identification so that I can apply for an ID card - her information and my picture.  I didn't do this once, but twice!  Since I could not seem to fit in at school, I thought maybe older people would take interest in me.  I found this out quickly when military men used to hit on me.  What I found strange was, school kids thought I was ugly and older men found me attractive.  With my fake ID, I headed to the nightclubs.  While most kids with a fake ID would have used it to buy alcohol, I just wanted to go out dancing!  I would come home and hide my ID card in my diary.  Guess who found it?  My father.  Oddly, I could keep it as long as I would go and buy him beer and cigarettes, whenever he wanted.

The different women that passed through my home was irritating.  I didn't know how to act around them - it was a toss up on who I was going to be mean or nice to.  I mainly viewed them as objects that my father used for his own satisfaction.  I would watch one woman go through his bedroom door and wake up to find another woman coming out of his bedroom door.  I would call him out on it and he would just laugh; he was proud and I was disgusted.  There was a time when I had a pretty girlfriend come over, I would go to my room, come back out to find him giving my friend a shoulder rub.  I was floored!  "What are you guys doing?"  They both just laughed it off like it was no big deal.  When my friend wasn't around, my father would ask about her all the time.  "When is she coming back?"  This definitely struck me to my core.  My father was attracted to girls my age??  Every time I accused him of it, he would dismiss it and just laugh.

The drinking got worse.  Alcohol just permeated from his pores; I could smell him throughout the house.  Between that and the chain smoking, I needed fresh air!  I would find ways to leave the house.  There were times when I told my father I was sleeping over at a friends house, when really, I was with an older man - older meaning like 19 yrs old up to the age of 22.  I know what you're thinking, but believe it or not, I made a vow to save myself for marriage.  I slept over at these guy's homes I was dating to have companionship and to get away from my father.  Because they were older and expected sex, I eventually got dumped because I wouldn't put out.  When I think about [now] how old I was and how old these men were, I get sick to my stomach.  But when I tell you what led me to do such things, you might understand it more...

1 comment:

  1. Thanks for sharing these difficult stories, Shanny. You should think about a book someday. Your story is truly inspiring.

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